Chapter #3The Legend of Alland Swamp by: BeeJay   The government calls it the Alland Wetlands Nature Preserve; to those who live there, though, it's the Alland Swamp. A few of the older folks call it something else, but I'm not going to repeat it.
Folks like to take their boats out into the swamp. Some of them fish; some of them hunt; and some just like to look around at the beauty of the swamp. Whatever you go there for, you ought to remember one important rule: Never stick anything over the side of the boat that you want to take back home. The alligators will just bite it off; the wild cats might be persuaded to let you go; but the snakes will give you something to remember them by for the rest of your life,... which just might not be very long. Of course, some people go to the swamp for other things,... but we'll talk about that later.
Deep in the swamp are the ruins of an old church. A hundred years ago, some people built a dam to block out the swamp water, and then they built that church. A couple years later (some folks say it was during services), the dam broke, and the water went rushing back where it had been. Now, folks will tell you: You don't take from the swamp; you borrow. And the swamp always collects.
Folks tell a lot of other stories about the swamp. There's the story of the runaway slave they found dead in the swamp; according to the story, even though he was a fit young man, they found him with an expression on his face that convinced folks that he died of fright. There've been stories of criminals who went to hide in the swamp; none of them ever came back out. There are even stories of something that lives in the swamp; something that the scientists don't have a name for.
A lot of stories.
Some of them are even made up.
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I was Julia Browning when the story started. I was an environmental activist. So was my best friend, Lori Chapman; we were both dedicated to preserving the beauty of nature in general, and Alland Swamp in particular. Some people didn't much like the swamp; and they figured that gave them the right to do whatever they wanted there. We were always ready with with our phones, to make them know that they couldn't do that without consequences.
That night, Lori and I were following this boat into the swamp. They had a motorboat, and we had a rowboat; not the fastest way to get around on the water, but one of the quietest.
When we got to some land, we got out of the boat and followed on foot. We started taking pictures as soon as we saw them. Then we got the goods: They started dumping 55-gallon drums over the side. We got shots of the barrels, and of the faces of the crew.
Then they turned a spotlight on us.
"Get them!"
We took off running. Since Lori always ran faster than I did, I gave her my phone, just in case. Good thing, because they caught up with me. I struggled as they carried me back to their boat.
When we got there, a man with 5 o'clock shadow and a headband was waiting. "This our little snoop?" he asked.
"One of them, Ferret," one of the goons replied. "The other one got away."
"Well, we'll just have to do something just for you, little girl, won't we?" He took me from the others. "Take the boat deeper in."
"What are you going to do to me?" I asked.
"We're gonna play us a little game, little girl."
"You won't get away with this."
He grinned. "Who's gonna tell anybody? Stop the boat."
We stopped. He brought me over to the side. "Time for that game I promised you," he said. "The rules are simple: How long can you hold your breath?" With that, he pushed me over the side.
I came to the surface quickly enough, but he grabbed me by the head. "Uh-uh; no cheating." He forced me back underwater, then held me under.
I don't know how long I held my breath for; I only know it wasn't long enough. I opened my mouth, and the water rushed into my lungs.
Everything went black.
Then everything went green.
Julia Browning's story had ended. And yet, mine wasn't over yet.  | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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